Need
by JamesLuver
Summary: S03E06. Violet tells Cora to go to America after Sybil's death. Robert tries to convince her to stay. Prompted by modernamericangirl on Tumblr.


**A/N:** Prompted by modernamericangirl on Tumblr.

I tried to draw inspiration from the scene between Mary and Robert in S03E06, when Robert was telling Mary about how he'd see things that made him think of Sybil, only for him to remember that she was gone. That was such a heartbreaking, beautiful scene.

**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey_ does not belong to me.

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_Need_

"_Go to America,"_ Violet had told her when it had become apparent that the space between her and Robert was not going to heal overnight, _"go to America and take some time to come to terms with everything."_

Her mother-in-law's tone had not been unkind.

"_Time is what you _both_ need,"_ she'd said.

And Cora had known that she'd been right. She had resolved to take the time to think it over for a few days before coming to a decision, but it had been another stiff, unbearable dinner with Robert that had made her mind up for her.

So now she sits in her bedroom, having just dismissed O'Brien, staring at herself through the mirror. Tomorrow she will need to inform her mother-in-law of her decision so that the older woman can take care of the details – she isn't sure that she has the strength to right now – but tonight she can have just one more night where the decision is hers and hers alone.

At least, she'd thought that until she hears the soft knock on her bedroom door. She doesn't need to call out to know who it is. She knows that knock anywhere by now.

Robert peers in cautiously after a moment, obviously afraid of how he will be received. When he sees that she isn't going to make a move, he steps inside properly, closing the door behind him.

She doesn't know why he's here. Nothing has changed from last night. Or the night before that. Or the night before that. She doesn't _want_ him in her bed. Why does he keep insisting on coming to her, hurting them both more than they need to be hurt?

"Cora?" His voice is soft and tentative. "Can I come in tonight?"

He asks the same question every night, and it makes her want to scream.

"You're already in, aren't you?" she snaps.

He ventures closer. "Will you let me stay?"

The same monotonous routine, over and over again, an endless cycle. Will he never get the message?

"No," she says. "No, I can't have you here."

Agonising silence for a moment. And then, finally, a change.

"Please, Cora," he whispers. "Please don't do this."

"Do what?" she says. Her voice is low and dangerous. "Punish you? Don't you think you deserve it, Robert?"

His eyes flicker. She knows that he thinks that he does deserve it.

She waits a beat, then shakes her head bitterly. "I wouldn't let it worry you too much, anyway. Because I _won't_ be doing this for much longer."

The expression on her husband's face is both confused and fearful. "What? Cora, darling, I don't understand –"

"I'm going to America." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, but she doesn't regret them at all. In fact, it gives her a ferocious rush to spring them upon him unaware, to see the shock upon his features.

Robert's eyes widen. She can tell that he is fighting to find words, his throat working fruitlessly.

"Don't talk like that," he tells her after a few moments. "You won't do it."

Her eyes flare. "No? You think I won't? Then you clearly don't know me at all, Robert."

"Mama would never allow it," he says.

She resists the urge to roll his eyes. He _always_ goes running to his mama when things get difficult to deal with. She knows he will never grow out of that.

"I'm sure she will," she says, "especially when it was her idea." Oh, the vindictive pleasure it brings her to see the horror upon his face.

"Cora, please don't say these things." She knows that it's the only thing he can think to say.

"And why shouldn't I?" she shoots back. "Why shouldn't I, when you didn't mind telling everyone that Dr. Clarkson's opinion wasn't valid when Sybil was giving birth? _What makes what I've just said any worse than what you did that night?_"

There is no way that he can answer that, and he knows it. He collapses onto the edge of the bed as though he has suddenly lost the ability to hold himself upright.

"Now, I'll be going to America," she continues calmly. "Your mama will sort the passage out for me. I expect I shall leave within the next two weeks. I don't know when I'll be back."

"Cora, please, reconsider," he begs her softly. "You don't want to do this."

"I can't stay here," she tells him harshly. "I can't stay here and be reminded every minute of every day of what I've lost."

There is silence for a moment. And then Robert speaks again. His voice is low, but it is stronger than before.

"Don't you say that," he tells her fiercely. "Don't you _dare_ say that. Sybil wasn't just your daughter, Cora. She was _my_ daughter too. She was my baby girl, and I would have given her the world if I could. Don't you dare think that you're the only one who wishes that the earth wouldn't turn anymore. Because I feel it so acutely. Do you know how many times that I've wished that I could turn back time, that I hadn't been so arrogant in my judgement? _Do you know what it feels like for me to stand here and know that all of this – every single part of it – is all down to me?_" He takes a deep, shaky breath. "No, you don't," he continues, before she can even open her mouth. "You have no idea. And while I won't make excuses for myself, you don't know what it's like to have this guilt hanging over your head every minute of every day. So don't say that you can't cope with being reminded of what you've lost. Because I've lost it too, Cora. I've lost it too."

Deafening silence lingers in the aftermath of his outburst. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and trains his stare to the carpet. Cora feels sick to the pit of her stomach. He has never spoken so baldly about the ordeal before now. He has always skimmed over the top of it, trying to pacify her with empty words and apologies that she hasn't wanted to hear.

"Don't go, Cora," he says at last. "Don't go. I can't cope alone. I need you here."

_I need you here._

"I need you here," he repeats. The tears begin to fall then, and he does not try to hide them from her, letting them scald his hands as he bends his head. Cora watches his shoulders convulse with absolute grief and it is in that moment that she sees just how much her – their – darling baby's death has affected him too. In that instant, she remembers Robert holding Sybil in his arms for the first time, the fierce look of love upon his face as he'd taken in the aweing sight of her, pressing gentle lips against her feather soft cheeks…

…And, in that instance, she knows that she can't leave.


End file.
